The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2020: Saladin (1963), directed by Youssef Chahine

 

The Trailer

and

The Appropriate Tune: "Saladin", by Dislocated Flowers

    The Crusades were a series of holy wars sanctioned by the Roman Catholic Church that occurred off and on from the year 1095 until roughly 1291. While purportedly a campaign to safeguard the city of Jerusalem, which if you know Christians is pretty important, in reality it was a convenient excuse for the feudal monarchies of Europe to expand into new territories and thus new avenues of wealth. Strange I know, in this day and age the idea of a foreign country invading the Middle East for material gain is completely unbelievable, but you have to remember this was a more primitive time. Undemocratic governments, out-of-touch warhawks in seats of power, they even had horrific plagues that killed thousands of people! Almost a thousand years later it’s good to know that we’ve progressed as a species.

    Alien though they may seem, the Crusades are certainly no strangers when it comes to pop culture. There has been a countless amount of art dedicated to events in or around those times, but generally speaking much of the art that we in the West have been exposed to has been from the perspective of the Crusaders, rather than those who were being crusaded against. With the advent of film and its spread across the world however there is a chance to redress that imbalance, and it wouldn’t be the Marathon if we didn’t take chances. That this film was made in Egypt, a country we have yet to cover in our world tour of cinema, was also a factor. New experiences, taking risks, that’s what this blog is about.

    Released in 1963 through Lotus Film, Saladin, Saladin the Victorious or Saladin and the Great Crusades was directed by Youssef Chahine and written by Chahine, Mohammed Abdel Gawad, Abderrahman Charkawi and Youssef El Sebai, based on a novel by Naguib Mahfouz. A historical drama, the film reenacts the events leading up to and including the Third Crusade. Upon learning of the treatment of Arabs in the Levant, Saladin (played by Ahmed Mazhar), Sultan of Egypt and founder of the Ayyubid Dynasty decides to lead a military campaign to liberate the city of Jerusalem from European control, at which they eventually succeed. This however doesn’t go over well with the folk running the place, in this case the lovely Virginia, wife of the warmongering Renaud, and so she heads off to Europe in order to gain support for a return expedition. Which she does, in the form of Richard the Lion-Heart, Philip Auguste and the other rulers of the continent. The stage is set for round 3 of Holy War and all the cards seem to be in favor of the Crusaders, but is the dream of a Jerusalem by and for Arabs nothing but a pipe dream? Or can Saladin snatch victory from the jaws of defeat? Watch this movie and find out. Or, you know, read a history book. Your call.

While the historical epic is not an uncommon sight in cinema, i believe they really started to kick into high gear after the success of Cecil B. DeMille’s 1956 film The Ten Commandments. Big open vistas, big battle scenes with hundreds of actors, a big cast who make big speeches at big dramatic moments all told with a big runtime and probably being filmed in a desert. The Italian sports car of cinema basically, made to show off just as much as it was to tell a story. Saladin is of that wave, and indeed attempts are made to make it look as grand as possible, which I think Chahine and crew largely succeed at. The battles are perhaps not as elaborate as one might expect out of a film that’s literally about a military conflict, but they do set people on fire so I can forgive a bit of shadowplay.

    It’s a lovely package, but as a historical drama it seems to bypass history in favor of romanticism. Reducing a war of imperial conquest to the actions of one devious woman is a gross misunderstanding of the purpose of the Crusades, reducing motivations down to simple greed or vainglorious idiocy and waves over events that they find inconvenient to the narrative, such as Richard’s invasion of Byzantium prior to his arrival at Jerusalem. This goes for our protagonists as well. While the rather obvious moral of Arab people should control Arab land in the film is certainly agreeable, I think it’s not only incorrect but irresponsible to portray Saladin’s involvement in Jerusalem as some sort of saintly obligation to help the poor and downtrodden. Saladin was a Sultan, a dynastic ruler whose caliphate stretched across Egypt and into Mesopotamia and Syria, and somehow I doubt that rule was based on being such a guy. Saladin’s motivations for liberating Jerusalem were ultimately not that dissimilar from the European kings, and while the Arabs of Jerusalem might indeed have generally been better off with Saladin (certain classes of Arabs at least, it’s arguable whether the downtrodden would have noticed the difference between one master or the other), the film’s idealistic tone only serves to muddy whatever good intentions the filmmakers might have had.

    This is made more obvious perhaps in the choice of characterization, which features Saladin and his commanders as morally upright, saintly figures who can do wrong and the Crusaders are stupid and/or comically evil (except for the women who are wilting daisies and submissive, except for the outspoken one who is of course evil). Again, there’s nothing wrong with portraying the Crusaders negatively and Saladin’s forces positively in this instance, but it’s to a point where you’re more engaged with the Crusader side of things because its more dynamic than the protagonists. Like they try to pull a Romeo and Juliet arc with Saladin’s commander Issa and female Crusader Louisa but it’s like...they had maybe 2 scenes together, and he’s sad that she won’t consent to be his POW wife? Then they try to push some drama midway through by killing off Saladin’s son, but it’s like...did this guy even have dialogue? Did Saladin even interact with his son more than once? Why would I care if this character I’ve had no time with got killed off? Ahmed Mazhar does a great job at projecting an air of authority, you can easily believe that he’s a leader of men, but so much of the film is centered around telling us how wise and great and amazing Saladin is you half expect him to start walking on water and turning water into wine. In a movie called Saladin, supposedly about Saladin, why is it that Richard Lion-Heart is the more compelling and emotionally complex character? Shouldn’t it be the other way around?

    In the end I find myself more conflicted about Saladin than I’ve been for any movie in a while. It certainly is a spectacle, and I might have recommended it based on that, but in spite of that I found the story to be rather simplistic up until maybe the last act and because of that I ended up losing the thread several times. Which is why this review is kind of shitty; The three hours burnt me out and I found myself lacking the inspiration more so than usual. So even though this is unprecedented for the Marathon, I think Saladin doesn’t get the recommendation. There are no doubt other historical epics, and other Egyptian films, that will satisfy you this Halloween. And no, the Brendan Fraser Mummy movie doesn’t count.

    Man this year fucking sucked, didn’t it? I tried starting work on the Marathon early this year to get ahead of the curve a bit, but then real life came around and ruined that plan completely. This year’s list did turn out pretty though, and we did close the book on the original Star Trek and Planet of the Apes series, so we did manage to accomplish something in the end. I suppose now the only question is whether I’m going to have the drive to finish up the rest of the Reelin’ In the Years movies, or am I going to avoid all movies for a couple months as usual? Either way I need a break, so I’ll see you all when I see you.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2020: The Extraordinary Adventures of Mr. West in the Land of the Bolsheviks (1924), directed by Lev Kuleshov

 

The Trailer

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The Appropriate Tune: "Stranger in Moscow", by Michael Jackson

    The plan was always to feature a film from the Soviet Union this year, but originally that film was the infamous 1985 war film Come and See. Given that film’s reputation however and given my rather dour mood at the time I decided that I was in the mood for some lighter fare. Really the whole final 10 needed a bit of brightening up, Mondo Cane tries but much like the Man Show went the way of the comedy dinosaurs decades ago, and Ong Bak is a bit too heavy. I needed something that wasn’t cynical, something to bring the spirits up, and when I came across the name of today’s film I figured I had found what I was looking for. Plus it apparently had cowboys in it, and if Revenge hadn’t come through I needed a backup. Also think two steps ahead kids.

    Released in 1924 through Goskino, The Extraordinary Adventures of Mr. West in the Land of the Bolsheviks (current record holder of the longest film title in Thunderblog history) was the debut film of Lev Kuleshov, written by Nikolai Aseyev and Vsevolod Pudovkin. Porfiry Podobed plays John West, an American man who alongside his cowboy bodyguard Jeddy decides to take a journey to the Land of the Bolsheviks, to see for himself all the horrors talked about in the various New York magazines. However things go awry as soon as they touch down at the capital; Not only is West’s handbag stolen by a child but West and Jeddy are quickly separated, with several instances of cowboy-themed grand theft auto committed in the interim. Separated by his six-shooting guardian John West is officially a stranger in a land, and it’s about that time that a gang of crooks set their sights upon him. They’ve got their hands on West’s bag you see, containing some of those New York magazines, and they’ve got a plan to take him for everything he’s worth. Has John West doomed himself in his pursuit of knowledge, or does an extraordinary adventure yet await him? You’d have to watch to find out, of course.

    As a comedy The Extraordinary Adventures… is not dissimilar from the films you saw in the West at the time, your Keaton and Chaplin vehicles. Primarily visual comedy, slapstick, but the way that it incorporates the satirical and fantastical elements into an otherwise realistic setting gives it an incredibly surreal atmosphere. Much of the first act of this film is dedicated to Jeddy’s long, complicated run from the police, which was predicated on Jeddy lassoing a random passerby at threatening him at gunpoint for some reason, as an example. Then there is the strange fixation on fights;There are about four or five times throughout this movie where characters, mainly villainous ones, break out into fist fights. An opportunity for more slapstick obviously, but what surprised me is the physicality of these fights. People are jumping on each other, they’re getting shoved into the floor, I would not be surprised if someone didn’t bust their ass during the making of this movie. It’s genuinely madcap in a way you don’t see much in films these days, and sometimes even in cartoons, a dedication to being silly.that brings to mind the heartfelt worldview of a child.

    Much of the bizarre nature of silent films, at least from our modern tastes is in the actors, and The Extraordinary Adventures… doesn’t disappoint in that regard. A tip of the hat to Podobed, whose goggle-eyed expressions are a treat, but the gang of crooks are definitely the biggest weirdos of the movie, which makes sense as they’re explosively violent, malicious perverts and that’s not the kind of behavior you want to support. Another big tip of the hat there to Aleksandra Khohkhlova as The Countess von Saks, who is one of the creepier looking characters in silent film with no effort whatsoever. If you ever wondered what Catherine O’Hara would look like as a sleep paralysis demon, look no further than this movie.

    There’s no such thing as an unbiased opinion. All art is a reflection of the background, the culture, the ideology of the artist, and that goes for the Soviet Union just as it does everywhere else in the world. What I find interesting however is just how differently the propaganda is approached. In American media Soviets were almost akin to the boogeyman; Shady figures working for shadowy overlords using tricks and subterfuge to bring about the fall of ‘western civilization’, or miserable thralls to said overlords. In The Extraordinary Adventures… however, while it doesn’t hide its opinion towards the American establishment, it doesn’t paint the American people with the same brush. While John West is a bit absent-minded he is also shown to be a forthright person, even courageous when the situation calls for it, and Jeddy is no different. They’re good people who just didn’t know better, and when they figure things out they are quick to rectify their mistake. The primary antagonists of the film are in fact internal; Remnants of the deposed empire like The Countess and those who have dropped out of society in order to prey upon others, certainly an issue for a fledgling state just starting out. There’s no need for fear-mongering in The Extraordinary Adventures… because Kuleshov and the crew aren’t afraid, and that relaxed confidence is admirable. Certainly so when compared to the more paranoid Western fare.

    The film does have an issue with pacing. The nature of films in the silent era meant frequent cuts to exposition cards, but the amount of times Kuleshov cuts a scene in order to introduce new characters (which also serves as a cast list) ends up feeling excessive, especially when some characters who aren’t that important to the story get one. There’s also an attempt at a romance subplot with Jeddy by the end which just doesn’t work. There’s a sort of setup for it, but once the main plot with West starts up Jeddy and his romantic interest barely get any screen time together before the end, and in the scant moments they do share there’s never any indication of romantic feelings, so when you get to the end there’s little emotional impact. It’s almost like they just wanted a cowboy in the movie without having a good plan to justify it, which is understandable because if I had the chance to make movies I’d do the exact same thing. 

    Music for this restored version of the film is provided by Robert Israel, a name familiar to those who have been keeping an eye on the silent film circuit. One size fits all type of soundtrack here, nothing all that exciting, although I do like the little Yankee Doodle leitmotif that pops in during a couple times with West. Gives it a bit of character.

    The Extraordinary Adventures of Mr. West in the Land of the Bolsheviks gets the recommendation. It’s got that screwball energy there, but at the core it’s a comedic cautionary tale about the importance of proper investigation and finding things out yourself rather than assuming, which I think is a good moral no matter who you are. If you’ve just got off of Bulbbul or Santa Sangre and looking for a palate cleanser, this is a good choice. Put on your flag socks and make an evening of it.

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2020: Revenge (1985), directed by Coenie Dippenaar

 

The Trailer

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The Appropriate Tune: "Gumba Fire", by Ashiko

    The concept of a ‘foreign’ western movie, by which I mean made outside of the United States, never fails to do my head in a little. A foreign romcom? Sure, lots of people can fall in love and laugh along the way. Foreign horror? A lot of people are scared of stuff. The Western genre however was built on around a specific time and place, that of the American Southwest in the late 1800s, which is a lot less universal than ghosts or awkward first dates. Or so it would seem, and yet the history of this blog would indicate otherwise. The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, one of most highly regarded of the genre, was by Italian Sergio Leone and was of Italian stock. Vladimir Motyl’s Soviet oestern White Sun of the Desert, and of course Alejandro Jodorowsky’s psycho-religious journey known as El Topo. Europe westerns, Asian westerns, South American westerns, why not throw an African western in there then?

    Released in 1985 through Conyl Films, Revenge was produced and directed by Coenie Dippenaar. Alex Ngubene plays Cijimpi Shala, an aspiring farmer who has moved his family (a wife and son) to their new farm near the town of Sunrise. When they arrive at the town however they find it to be a hive of scum and villainy, run by a gang of vagabonds. The Shala family ignore them, eager to start their new lives as homesteaders, but of course things can’t be that easy and the gang quickly set their sights on the vulnerable. What is a man like Cijimpi to do when the lives of his family are threatened? Does he turn the other cheek, seek out financial restitution, or does he formulate cold, calculated vengeance? Well in a film like Revenge it’s hard to tell, you’re going to have to watch it for yourself.

    I feel it would be an error to talk about Revenge though without acknowledging its background. This is a South African film, and the South African state at the time were still engaged in the malignant system of Apartheid. Revenge then is not entirely unlike Eleven P.M. which I covered earlier this year in that they are both ‘race films’; born from the contradiction of capital’s need for profit and its desire to uphold a racist system of segregation. That we can watch this movie at all in 2020 is something of a small blessing actually, this is a restored version put out by Gravel Road Entertainment Group, as many such films from that period were not preserved and are thus lost. Disposable films for what the South African state considered disposable people. 

    So to criticize Revenge for looking cheap feels superfluous, as it’s not like they had much choice in the matter, but I have to give Dippenaar and his crew credit for what they did accomplish. They may not have had the budget to make Sunrise into a full-fledged town (made rather obvious during the scene where Cijimpi is drug through town), but they have horses. They have a saloon, and ten gallon hats and revolvers and one man’s search for justice in a lawless world. It may falter when compared to the work of John Ford or Sergio Leone, the grassy hills of South Africa may not resemble Dodge City but in form and essence Revenge is a western, which is damn impressive.

     One can also respect that no matter what the purpose of these films were that Dippenaar still takes some artistic risks. I really like the camera work at the beginning of the film when the Shala family first arrives at Sunrise, particularly the slinking first person viewpoint outside but even the first scene inside the bar has some interesting camera angles as I recall. A fair amount of slow motion during the gunfight scenes as well, a bloodless nod to Peckinpah and the 70’s neo-westerns I imagine. Except for the one scene where they blow a snake the fuck up I guess.

    Before I get accused of pandering I’d say the biggest issue with Revenge is in the editing. I don’t know if this was how the film was originally or this was Gravel Road doing what they could with the footage they recovered, but there are several noticeable errors. Noticeable cuts in the middle of scenes, scenes that linger for too long, scenes with redundant information, and so on. Of course if they didn’t get much time to make the movie they likely get much to edit it, but really the art of filmmaking is editing. The best acting or script can be reduced to nothing with the power of the edit, so it can’t be taken lightly. Revenge is already under an hour long (assuming this restored version is the complete film), so some more time in the booth definitely could have helped smooth out the rough edges and made it a more streamlined experience.

    Ultimately Revenge gets the recommendation. For the novelty of being a western movie from South Africa, for its historical significance, and because it’s an entertaining film in spite of its limitations. As I said it’s also under an hour, so not a huge time investment if you’re worried about that. Slytherins beware, but everyone else should check it out.

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2020: Bulbbul (2020), directed by Anvita Dutt

 

The Trailer

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The Appropriate Tune: "Song of the River", by Hari Prasad Chaurasia

    While I have made efforts to broaden the scope of films that I have covered over the years, there has been one region that I have heretofore shied away from: India. I have no issue with the peoples of India, but the reputation of Indian film from the outside perspective has been daunting. Films which balloon out over three hours long, packed full of more song and dance numbers than a Sondheim double feature, which is a hard sell for someone who deals mainly in genre films. Assumptions are no excuse however, so when the previous entry didn't pan out I decided to take the step in favour of international cinema. It helped that it was on netflix and I didn’t have to try too hard.

    Released in 2020 through Clean Slate Filmz, Bulbbul is the directorial debut of Anvita Dutt (she was also the writer), a writer and lyricist of several film and television projects. In the year 1881 in the Bengal region of India a young girl named Bulbbul was married to a rich old man named Indranil (Rahul Bose) and moved into his palatial manor, largely isolated except for her new in-laws. 20 years later Satya (Avinash Tiwary), the youngest brother and childhood friend of Bulbbul, returns to the family home to find a very different situation. Indranil is nowhere to be found, his brother is dead, his sister-in-law has gone into monk mode and Bulbbul doesn’t seem like the sweet, wholesome girl she once was. Unfortunate on a personal level, but it also coincides with a rash of grisly murders that have taken place in the nearby village, the work of a mysterious backward-footed being known only as the Demon Woman. Satya, fresh off of studying law in London is on the case, but will he like what he discovers? Will we, the audience, like what we discover about the life of Bulbbul? I’m going to go out on a limb and say no.

    Bulbbul is not a Bollywood movie, if that’s what you’re apprehensive about. Actually, I would say that it more closely resembles Wuthering Heights, or the Southern Gothic stories of Tennessee Williams. A crumbling manor out in the middle of nowhere, housing a motley crew of decaying aristocrats who are hiding a dark and terrible secret? Just give Bulbbul a mint julep and you’d barely be able to tell the difference. With that comes a certain lack of subtlety; The film’s twists and turns are telegraphed so early that even the casual movie watcher will likely be able to predict most of the plot, but I think there’s enjoyment to be had in seeing just how those pieces fit together.

    As I said many of Anvita Dutt’s film credentials were in the music department prior to this, and while music is used well it’s interesting to note that Bulbbul is a very visually oriented film. Not just in regards to the cinematography, but in the use of color. Bulbbul drapes itself in reds and oranges and blues, full-on colored stage lighting style, and while it occasionally informs the real world (like an orange filter for sundown) it more often than not pushes things firmly into the world of cinema. It’s rather simple but I found it appealing, especially when it was used in the more dramatic scenes of the film.

    In terms of acting everyone does well, although I keep coming back to Paoli Dam as Binodini, the sister-in-law. She does great work in expression; The bell curve of emotion on her face whenever she’s set against the aggressive charisma of Tripti Dimri’s Bulbbul is very well done. Credit goes to Rahul Bose as well for playing two characters in the stoic Indranil and his brother Mahendra, visually identical and yet ultimately distinct.

    Aside from the fact that it is a simple revenge fantasy story, I also found its inclusion of supernatural elements sloppily applied. Bulbbul does a good job of building up the reality of the Demon Woman, establishing her humanity if you will, before tossing in some pure surreality into the mix. Earlier I praised the use of colored lighting to place the audience firmly into the world of film, but in this case I think it ultimately harms what the film was building towards up until that point. The Demon Woman goes from this mysterious creature, into a vengeful yet sympathetic figure back into the realm of mystery, removing much of the climax’s emotional impact and ultimately leading towards an equivalency between Satya and Indranil as characters that I don’t think rings true given how the plot unfolds.

    In spite of that, I think Bulbbul gets the recommendation. For those fans of Gothic literature or the old Universal horror films I think they’ll find a kindred spirit in this film. For those looking to ease their way into Indian cinema, although I’m certainly not an authority on that subject, this is easily digestible fare. Also don’t marry kids, in case you’re curious. It’s creepy.

Reelin' In The Years -- Shadow of a Doubt (1943), directed by Alfred Hitchcock

 

The Trailer

and

The Appropriate Tune: "Shadow of a Doubt", by Sonic Youth

    It’s been a long time coming. On almost every review since I started down this road to a century of film there has been one name that has been a constant presence, a shadow looming large over this humble blog: Alfred Hitchcock. Year after year would pass by and with it a Hitchcock movie to review, and yet I always managed to find an alternative, something else that struck my fancy. Generally speaking I think taking those chances was for the best and the Tour has managed to highlight some very good and very interesting films, but I’ve been teasing him for so long now that if I put him off now it would’ve been weird. Not to mention that there aren’t that many years left to cover, so if I don’t do a Hitchcock film now I might now end up doing any at all, as the movies I’ve got lined up are by and large too good to replace. So what better place than here, what better time than now and all that.

    In 1943 the world still had a bit to go before it ended it’s second global military conflict, and so to pass the time it put out some movies. Notable potential inductions for this year included Carl Theodor Dreyer’s period drama Day of Wrath, William A Wellman’s western classic The Ox-Bow Incident, Billy Wilder’s war thriller Five Graves to Cairo, and George Stevens’ housing crisis based romcom The More the Merrier. As I said however this was to be Hitchcock’s year, and of all the films I could have covered for this tour I decided to go with the one that I’ve heard was the favorite of his films, Shadow of a Doubt. I mean this is the same guy who made Vertigo and Rear Window, so I thought it would be interesting to try and figure out what makes this film, out of the dozen or so other great films that he made during his lifetime, so unique. Or maybe he was so overwhelmed by the flood of Abbott & Costello movies during the 40’s that it warped his perspective, there’ one way to find out.

     Released in 1943 through Skirball Productions, written by Sally Benson, Alma Reville (Hitchcock’s wife), author/playwright Thornton Wilder and based on a short story by Gordon McDonell, Shadow of a Doubt was Alfred Hitchcock’s 32nd film and the second to be released by Universal Pictures, the first being Saboteur the year before. A wealthy man who goes by the name of Charles Spencer (Joseph Cotten) is being watched by two men in a quiet boarding house in Philadelphia. After giving them the slip, he decides to ditch the East Coast altogether and instead take a train ride to the idyllic town of Santa Rosa California to reunite with his sister and her family, the Newtons. This is great news, especially to eldest daughter Charlie (Teresa Wright), who is her Uncle Charlie’s number one fan. Indeed, when Charles Oakley arrives at Santa Rosa there’s no one who sings his praises than his niece Charlie. Yet it’s not too long before Charlie feels that something isn’t quite with her beloved uncle. The way he acts sometimes, the way he hides things, the way he likes to keep secrets. What is going on with Uncle Charlie? More importantly, what’s going to happen to Charlie when she finds out?

    So what makes this Hitchcock’s favorite film, if indeed that’s the case? Perhaps it’s because of the structure. The audience are given a crumb at the beginning of the movie, something is up but what that could be is not clear. Then that sense of unease builds, and it builds, and some things that don’t add up start to appear, and it builds until finally we hit that crescendo where we learn the truth. Then when the film finally reaches that ‘Oh Shit!’ emotional peak, a very well done scene by the way, then comes the build towards the reaction to that discovery. There’s a great feeling of momentum to Shadow of a Doubt, and I don’t just say that because of the recurring element of trains. Though I’ve described the film as a slow burn it never feels slow, each tension beat comes in quick enough succession that you don’t have much time to stew in your own thoughts. Momentum, I think in my notes I also described it as a feeling of inevitability, which I think describes Shadow of a Doubt well. The audience knows that something bad is at the end of the tunnel but Hitchcock grabs them by the scruff of the neck and drags them towards the light, and they’re helpless to stop it. Hitchcock is no stranger to suspense of course, but I think because he takes so long to fully lift the veil that your mind is allowed to speculate more and more gruesome scenarios, and that tension is that much more palpable because of it.

    Then again, perhaps it’s his favorite because of the tone. As an artist Alfred Hitchcock was as much a fan of gallows humor as he was of the gallows if you know what I mean, but Shadow of a Doubt hits differently than the other films that I’ve covered on this blog. The contrast between this wholesome, almost parodically good family and the undercurrent of dark violence is feels incredibly unique, more Lynchian than Hitchcockian. The first instinct is to give the credit to Thornton Wilder, as Santa Rosa and its people bear a resemblance to Wilder’s famous play Our Town, but to be honest I don’t know how much involvement he actually had in the screenplay. Not only is this the only film that Wilder is ever credited as working on, but there was also two other writers working on the picture, one of which was Hitchcock’s wife and frequent collaborator, which implies that his contribution to the film was far less than what would be implied. Things like the running gag of Charlie’s dad and his friends eagerly discussing the best way to murder each other lends creedence to that theory, as it seems like the kind of thing that would fit right at home on an episode of Alfred Hitchcock Presents. Whoever is responsible, a thriller that’s also funny is a pretty cool trick.

    Perhaps it’s because of the casting? Shadow of a Doubt doesn’t have the marquee names of Vertigo or North by Northwest, but it also proves the strength of the material and Hitchcock’s ability as a filmmaker that he can succeed with the ‘crutch’ of big name actors. Joseph Cotten is the highlight here as Charles Oakley, like James Cagney he has this quality about him where he can go from the nicest guy you’ve ever met to the scariest fucker in the room in the same scene but without Cagney’s aggressive energy, which makes his performance more intimidating. Teresa Wright honestly might be too old for the role, she looks like she’s in her mid 20s playing a character that’s written more like 17 or 18, but I think she has an innocent strength about her that fits the material. I was also very impressed with Patricia Collinge, who played Charlie’s mother. She doesn’t do all that in the story, but whenever she gets her own time in the spotlight I think she absolutely nails it.

    There’s also those interesting experiments in cinematography. The chase scene near the beginning of the film done from a top down perspective was great, if a bit short. There’s also a great shot after the discovery scene that I mentioned earlier, and the recurring waltz, not unlike the recurring trains. Shadow of a Doubt isn’t trying to reinvent the wheel or anything, but flourishes like that are always a fun reminder that Hitchcock was first and foremost a visual storyteller, and he was always looking for new ways to tell his stories.

    That all being said the film isn’t perfect. Right before the discovery scene Hitchcock engages in a rather obvious bit of cinematic shorthand to get the story where he wants. This wouldn’t be so bad if the cut wasn’t so jarring and if it wasn’t a lead-in to the romance subplot, which is a significant part of the film. The whole thing ends up on shaky ground, pushing a romance without devoting the time necessary to make it work, and honestly this is one of those films that doesn’t really need a romantic angle to make it work. Especially when those romantic leads don’t have a strong chemistry together.

    Is Shadow of a Doubt Alfred Hitchcock’s best movie? That answer is of course subjective; Vertigo tends to trade places every year or so with Citizen Kane on lists of the best movie of all time, and personally I’ve always had a fondness for Rope. Can I see why it might be Alfred Hitchcock’s personal favorite of his films? I think so, yes. Shadow of a Doubt is a very simple kind of movie, good versus evil, hope versus base nihilism, and it tells that story without ever being that violent or macabre. As the man said in It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, the implication of a thing is often more than enough to get the desired result, and I think to the master of suspense a film built on implications was far more appealing than one built on action. Less work, certainly. Shadow of a Doubt gets a strong recommendation.

    Next stop on the tour we’ll be continuing our stay in the 1940’s. Another thriller is on the card I think, the decade was chock full of them after all, but perhaps not the one you’re expecting. See you all then.

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2020: Beauty and the Beast (1946), directed by Jean Cocteau

 

The Trailer

and

The Appropriate Tune: "The Beast", by Fugees

    Fairy tales are a weird thing. Originally they served as a sort of medieval after school special, teaching kids things like ‘listen to instructions or you will fucking die’, or ‘don’t talk to strangers or you will fucking die’, and in particular ‘step parents aren’t your real parents and they will never love you’. Important life lessons in the days when getting a cold was a life-or-death scenario and 12 years old was considered the prime marrying age, but in modern times those lessons have become largely obsolete, and it’s nature as an oral tradition have likewise ceased to exist. We still keep ‘em around of course, but it’s less about what those stories teach these days than it is how we can spin them. What if Red Riding Hood was an anime? How about Snow White and the Seven Dwarves as a raunchy sex comedy? They have become as clay, molded and remolded a million times over, which would surely be a living hell if they were sentient. But they aren’t so whatever.

    Released in 1946 through DisCina, Beauty and the Beast was written and directed by French director Jean Cocteau in his third time behind the camera. An adaptation of Jeanne-Marie Leprince de Beaumont’s adaptation of the 1740 story by Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve. Josette Day plays Belle, a beautiful young girl who is forced into domestic work by her horrible sisters when her family falls into financial troubles. One day her father goes into town on the prospect of riches he asks his daughters what they would like as gifts. Her sisters, being your standard gold diggers ask for jewelry and other luxuries, but Belle asks for but a single rose. Because she’s the protagonist you see, and being humble is very marketable.

    Well the deal falls through, and as the father makes the journey he is set upon by a great storm and ends up lost in a forest. Things seem grim, until he manages to stumble upon a mysterious castle. He is given a meal and a nice rest (although he never sees anyone do it), but when he picks a rose from the garden he is immediately set upon by the owner of the castle, known only as the Beast (played by Jean Marais). Beast condemns the man to death for the heinous crime of doing something innocuous that he couldn’t possibly know was wrong, but being a reasonable sort of guy he offers him a deal: Give me one of your daughters and you get to live. Which the father refuses to do, but Belle decides to sacrifice herself and sneaks off to the castle, because selflessness is also very marketable. So begins the cohabitation between the beautiful Belle and the fearsome Beast, but will this really be the nightmare she has been led to believe? Or is there a spark of something more there? 

    As someone who grew up during the so-called Disney Renaissance of the 1990’s, it’s hard not to make comparisons between this Beauty and the Beast and the animated adaptation put out by DIsney during that time. Especially as there are certain elements that feature in both works, such as Beast’s leonine traits and a rival for Belle’s affections who are kind of ‘sexual assaulty’ (Gaston for Disney and Avenant in the Cocteau). While there may be an attitude among some to side with the older film just because it’s older, or because it’s closer to the source material, but in watching this film I found that Disney’s changes actually made sense. Taking out the whole wicked sisters angle was good, keeps things from feeling too derivative, and making Belle into a bookworm gave her some characteristics beyond ‘meek maiden’. More importantly though, where the Disney adaptation rings true is its focus on building the relationship between Belle and Beast. I mean let’s face it, Beauty and the Beast is ultimately a really creepy story, and the only way to make it palatable is to tone down the death threats, extortion and Stockholm Syndrome aspects. Which Cocteau’s version doesn't really do at all; If anything he makes Beast feel like even more of a creepy stalker than before, and he spends more time making the two walk slowly down hallways in silence than he does building a solid foundation for a relationship. She pities him sure, in one of the few conversations they have where he’s not pressuring her to marry him, but I don’t think pity is the same thing as love. Plus there’s this whole thing with Avenant and Beast near the end of the film which just comes across as weird and maybe a little gross. I don’t know if it was in the original Beaumont story, but it feels awkward and jams up the flow of the scene in my opinion, so I think Cocteau would have been better off changing it. The movie’s nearly a century old by this point though, so he might want to hurry up.

    Where Cocteau excels at in this film is in capturing the essence of the fairy tale, and really playing into the duality of the thing. The living furniture is the pinnacle of that, both elegant and grotesque, but really the entire castle is locked within contradictions. Belle’s bedroom which has been overtaken by greenery, elegant architecture marred with images of dragons and monsters, and so on. This is also apparent in his use of shadowplay; the darkness is so intense that I wouldn’t be surprised if he had physically painted things black in order to draw any potential light out of the scene, like the inky void in space that is the dining area, save for a fireplace and tiny Edwardian table. All of it serves to heighten the surreality of the story, of the fantastical coming against the visceral. When Belle first explores the castle she doesn’t walk down the halls she glides, and this isn’t out of place because she has stepped into the dream.

    I also appreciate the fact that Cocteau injected some humor here and there. He pays a lot of lip service to the innocence of children at the beginning of the film, and I believe he recognized that, as a children’s story, the film needed a bit of levity to break up the sturm und drang. A lesson that constantly needs to be relearned in this day and age. It also gives the sister characters something to do, quite frankly, as they’re largely superfluous compared to Avenant or even the brother character Ludovico.

    Nothing much to say about the acting. I found Josette Day’s performance as Belle to be fine, she was arguably a bit too old to be playing a maiden at that point but she got the point of Belle across. I really wasn’t all that impressed with Jean Marais as the Beast however. To his credit the Beast makeup requires him to do a lot of acting with his eyes and when he’s not talking he’s not too far removed from Lon Chaney Jr.’s Wolf-Man, but then he opens his mouth and his high-pitched, raspy voice marrs the whole thing. Combined with his whole ‘marry me or I’ll die of loneliness’ schtick he comes across as one of those guys who complains that the gamer girl bath water he ordered isn’t 100% authentic. Neither looking or sounding like someone you’d actually want to be in a relationship, outside of certain circles of the internet.

    Ultimately though I will give Beauty and the Beast the recommendation. Finding an adaptation of a fairy tale isn’t exactly difficult, but I think Cocteau’s unsettling, avant garde direction gives his film a unique quality that sets it apart from others. For those who want their children’s stories with a bit of an edge to it, or are interested in seeing the early years of one of France’s great filmmakers, this is a film worth checking out this Halloween. Or on a date, but I don’t think there are that many dates going on right now.

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2020: The Wandering Earth (2019), directed by Frant Gwo

 

The Trailer

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The Appropriate Tune: "The Wanderer", by Dion

      When it comes to Western audiences and Chinese cinema, we’ve often been stuck with two things: Martial arts films and period piece dramas, or some combination of the two. Not for lack of trying, I’m pretty sure the Chinese have a thing about being viewed as a semi-feudal society steeped in mystical stereotypes, but unfortunately it often feels that genre fiction with a Chinese perspective doesn’t get a fair shake on the other side of the pond. Chinese horror, Chinese science fiction, Chinese film noir with supernatural elements, you know the hardcore shit. Whether that’s due to racist attitudes by the West, some sort of low-key cultural warfare thing, or I’m just that unobservant, I don’t know . So when I do happen to find one, and I have a good enough excuse (like, say an annual 31 movie marathon), I tend to jump on it. So it was with Animal World a while back, and so it is today.

      Released in 2019 though the China Film Group Corporation, The Wandering Earth was directed by Frant Gwo and written by Gwo, Gong Ge’er, Yan Dongxu, Ye Junce, Yang Zhixue, Wu Yi and Ye Ruchang, all of which was based on a story by celebrated science fiction writer Liu Cixin. The world is absolutely fucked, and for once it’s not humanity’s fault. Nope, it turns out that the sun is degenerating, and in about 100 years it’s going to take out Earth and the entire solar system with it. In order to save mankind the governments of the world decide to team up and reenact their favorite Spongebob meme by tricking out the planet with a couple hundred rocket engines and pushing it somewhere else, namely in Alpha Centauri, as human beings eke out a existence in enormous underground cities for the 2,500 years it takes to get there. How exactly humanity is supposed to fix the ecosystem once there when all non-human life is now extinct, but I guess we didn’t need all those animals and plants anyway.

      For the past seventeen years things have been going relatively smoothly, but then one day everything decides to go wrong. Not only do  the rockets end up malfunctioning, which plunges the underground cities into chaos, but a gravitational spike on Jupiter screws up Earth’s trajectory, pulling it onto a collision course which will most definitely not turn out well for anyone involved. The human race is looking down the barrel of a gun, and it’s only hope seems to lie in a ragtag group of rescue workers, scientists and normal citizens, including teenage inventor Liu Qi. If he manages to get over his daddy issues that is.

      The Wandering Earth is what you might call a ‘money shot’ kind of movie, by which I mean one of the main goals of the film is to show off the special effects budget. About 90% of this movie is covered in CGI and dipped in slow-mo, and while that might give one flashbacks to SharkBoy and Lava Girl, the imaging work done here is very impressive in terms of scope and the complexity of the design. It still doesn’t look quite ‘real’, but it’s about as close as you can get in this day and age. Combined with the set design and practical effects, which bring to mind something out of Prometheus or Pacific Rim (a spacesuit with a minigun attached to it does seem more suited to take out xenomorphs than it does for rescue missions), The Wandering Earth might be one of the better looking science fiction films I’ve seen in a long time. Of course most of the science fiction films I watch tend to be a few decades old, but it’s still very impressive.

      Story-wise The Wandering Earth hits a bit different from what you might be used to in other films as well. The closest thing to an antagonist is a HAL ripoff who kind of slows some of our characters down, and there’s no romance whatsoever. No this film is built on family, friends, community working together to overcome obstacles, in this case the obstacle of preventing the entire planet from being destroyed. Which, admittedly, is the kind of thing you’d want to devote most of your attention to, but it seems that many disaster movies can’t get by without it. Titanic, Armageddon, what have you. For those aromantic people out there, this might be a nice change of pace.

      The flipside to this then is that rather than focusing on one or two people we are instead flooded with characters, and I think that unfortunately the film suffers because of that. While they make sure to give everyone a name and a chance to do something plot-wise, personally I ended up forgetting most of them who were besides the more blatant tropey ones. This ends up affecting our protagonist Liu Qi as well, as he starts off as something of a shithead and it never felt to me like he ever moved beyond that. The resolution of the arc between him and his father Peiqiang also rang hollow, partially because of that and partially because the two characters literally have no interaction with each other prior to that exact moment. Honestly in spite of it lifting stuff from 2001: A Space Odyssey I prefer the Peiqiang parts of the film to the Liu Qi. Not only is Peiqiang a more entertaining character Liu Qi, but because he gets more solo time as a character you get more of a chance to connect with his character. It might be derivative, but you could have expanded his part to the whole film and I wouldn’t have minded. It would’ve given Makarov more screen time anyway.

      Also, while I would call The Wandering Earth a competently written movie, certainly not a common feat with films that have a half a dozen writers in the credits. Excluding the absurd premise of turning the entire planet into a generation ship, because sci-fi needs an idea from which to grow, but some of the things the characters do just come off as downright stupid. I understand the need for Liu Qi’s obstinance in regards to building drama, but it seems contrived given the enormity of the stakes involved. Complaining about getting roped into a rescue mission and wanting to go home would make more sense if the planet weren’t set to collide with a gas giant in a half hour. Later on there’s a scene where the rescue team arrives at an engine in need of relighting, only to find it destroyed by magma. The team is discouraged, which leads to arguing, when suddenly one of the team pulls out her gun and shoots the mechanism designed to relight the engine, on the basis of wanting ‘no more dying’. Besides the fact that if you wanted to get attention you could just shoot your gun in the air, this train of thought is so fucking stupid that even another character calls her out on it. They make it clear that these mechanisms aren’t exactly plentiful, so by destroying it not only do you ensure that the sacrifice of those who got it that far was in vain, but you are actively endangering the entire human race in the quite likely possibility that the other engines malfunction in the future. It’s pissing me off a little just thinking about it, especially because the writers pull a deus ex machina immediately afterwards and render the entire scene pointless. Bad, bad writing on their part.

      Reflecting upon everything that goes down, The Wandering Earth is not only a ‘money shot’ film, it’s one of those movies that would have been better as a miniseries. While Frant Gwo manages to keep things moving at a reasonable pace, there are definitely times where the plot is straining under the weight of everything it’s trying to set up, and the constant use of slow-mo and action setpieces strain the seriousness of the events taking place in the movie. Spread it out over a couple of episodes and you give everyone room to breathe, do some world building, some character development, and you’d still have enough excitement to carry the audience through the story.

      Overall I’m going to give The Wandering Earth the recommendation. In a world that’s constantly reminding us of how shitty it is, it’s nice to get something every now and that reminds us how strong we can be when we work together. Not strong enough to keep the sun from exploding perhaps, but I think we’re a lot more capable than we realize. We’ve just gotta try. Maybe you’ll want to try this movie too.

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2020: Santa Sangre (1989), directed by Alejandro Jodorowsky

 

The Trailer

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The Appropriate Tune: "Sabbath Bloody Sabbath", by Black Sabbath

      In the pantheon of weird directors, your Monte Hellmans, your David Lynchs, perhaps no other director has so consistently struggled with motives that outstripped his means than Alejandro Jodorowsky. The most famous example is of course his ill-fated attempt to adapt Dune -- a 24 hour long film featuring the likes of Mick Jagger and Salvador Dali (before he outed himself as a fascist) and a young H.R. Giger, but even when we covered El Topo one could see him doing his best to not make just another western film. Perhaps I’ve said this before, but it makes sense that he eventually branched off from cinema in order to do graphic novels, where he was just as successful, if not more. Whereas films always deal heavily in compromise, the studio, the producer, the actors, the crew, in the world of comics Jodorowsky was unshackled from the chains of reality, free to tackle any idea that crossed his mind. All he really needed was someone to illustrate those ideas, which he did to great effect with his collaboration with Moebius. If you ever get a chance, you should try out The Incal or the Metabarons, it’s crazy stuff. 

We’re not here to talk about comic books though, we’re here for films. So if El Topo was Jodorowsky’s spin on a western movie, why not see how he tackles a thriller?

Released in 1989 though Mainline Pictures, Santa Sangre was written by Roberto Leoni, Claudio Argento (relative of Dario) and Alejandro Jodorowsky, one of the last films he would direct until his return to filmmaking in 2013. Alex Jodorowsky (one of several Jodorowskys who show up in this film) stars as Fenix, a young man living an animalistic existence in a mental hospital. Fenix lived a troubled life, as we soon learn: A boy magician in an traveling circus, his father was a drunk abusive philanderer and his mother a religious zealot who had a shrine built to a raped and murdered schoolgirl who ended up murdering each other as graphically as they could. Certainly traumatic for a young child, and of course since this is a movie that means Fenix ends up becoming a Norman Bates-style murderer. No woman in the whole of Mexico is safe from this dangerously oedipal killer, except perhaps for Alma (Sabrina Denison), Fenix’s childhood friend who was spirited away after the inciting incident. What are the chances that they would be in the exact same place at the same time though?

I’ve perhaps buried the lead somewhat, committed the faux-pas of spoilers but there’s not that much suspense and mystery in Santa Sangre when you get right down to it. Even the strange obscurantist symbolism is a little bit too on the nose for someone who has made it through most of David Lynch’s filmography. A woman passes by and an actual snake slides out of Fenix’s pants, Fenix feels remorse for what he’s done so he literally dresses up like Claude Rains from the Universal film while also directly referencing the film and its reason for inclusion. It feels so belabored, and drags down what is already a plodding, 2 hour plus film. Calling it a ‘thriller’ is ascribing to it a bit too much vitality.

What about ‘horror’ then? This is a movie about a mentally ill serial killer after all, and Fenix does get to some serialized killing throughout the film, but this being Jodorowsky it can’t just be murder, it’s gotta be weird. In fact I’m reminded of Italy’s giallo pictures, with its cartoonish depictions of violence, but is even less realistic. Like the very first murder involves using knives to slice a woman’s arms off in one clean motion, despite them only being sharp to stick maybe a quarter of inch into a wood board. Same goes for the second murder, where the victim is spraying blood like a water hose yet the actual stabbing seems barely more visceral than your average Doctor Who episode. We’ve seen from El Topo that Jodorowsky isn’t afraid of dealing in genres that deal in violence, so it seems like he’s trying to do less with more for whatever reason.

Speaking of doing less with more, what is the deal with Jodorowsky and women in this movie? Seems like if you’re a woman in Santa Sangre you’re either insane or a prostitute, and if you’re sexually active then there’s a good chance you’re gonna be murdered. The only one to escape that binary characterization is our female lead, Alma, and even she has to deal with an attempted rape and an attempted murder, and she just so happens to be a deaf mute who doesn’t have a single word of dialogue who ultimately helps Fenix out. So in the world of Santa Sangre, women exist only for the benefit of men, either to help out of problems or to take out oedipal-induced frustrations, and if we were supposed to be seeing things from Fenix’s perspective then Jodorowsky doesn’t convey it well. Both cis and transgender women get it though, in case you were worried about inclusivity. 

Acting wise I suppose Axel Jodorowsky isn’t bad, of all the Jodorowsky spawn in this movie he’s the best actor of the bunch. Blanca Guerra plays Concha, Fenix’s insane armless mom, and she plays an insane ghoul pretty well. Everyone else was everyone else, although I must admit I had no patience for the kid who played child Fenix. Lots of shots which emphasized his crying face and his big buck teeth, I kinda got sick of looking at him.

Music was done by Simon Boswell, and while I thought the score was good it seemed like there was a problem in how it was utilized. A suspenseful moment would have the appropriate synth noodling, but it would only last for like 5 seconds before an abrupt shift to a Latin folk song. A better use of that might be when a pimp takes some of the mental patients to the equivalent of skid row, where there’s colors and dancing and a saucy mambo number, and then we reach the corner and the fun stops. Not much else comes to mind about it.

      When I first placed Santa Sangre on this list I was excited to see Jodorowsky’s take on a horror movie, memories of his comics and films flooding into my mind and building expectations, but it was ultimately more mundane and less enthralling than I was expecting. Perhaps this year has just put me off the mood for movies. Still there’s certainly enough weird here to entice the casual horror fan, so I’ll let it pass with a mild recommendation. Pour yourself a nice glass of paint/blood this Halloween and see if you can’t have a nice evening.

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2020: Knife in the Water (1962), directed by Roman Polanski

 

The Trailer

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The Appropriate Tune: "I'll Fall With Your Knife", by Peter Murphy

      Originally I was going to lead this off with a talk about the state of cinema in the 60s, how both sides of the ‘Iron Curtain’ were putting out excellent films, even though most of the credit tends to go toward the French New Wave and Italian neorealists. Then I was going to do something addressing Roman Polanski. Neither of them felt right though so I’m just going to get to the film.

      Released in 1962 through Zespol Filmowy, Knife in the Water was the directorial debut of Roman Polanski, written by Jakub Goldberg, Jerzy Skolimowski and Polanski himself. Leon Niemczyk and Jolanta Umecka play Andrezj and Krystyna, a couple driving down the road when they come across, almost run over, a young hitch-hiker played by Zygmunt Malanowicz. They pick him up on their way to the marina, where they have a boat docked, and ultimately manage to convince him to join them on their sailing trip across the lake. However it soon becomes clear that this is no holiday trip between friends. There is a tension building here, an inevitable implosion between these people, but when will it happen? What form will it take? What is it about Poland and stolen windshield wipers? You’ll have to see for yourself.

     The main thrust of Knife in the Water is human behavior, for lack of a better description. The relationship between Andrezj and the young man, the young versus old, the romantic versus the rational. Which then morphs into the parent-child dynamic as the young man tries to prove his competency in a world he has little experience in (sailing), which of course leads into something of an oedipal complex and this sexual contest between the woman and the two men. All of which is steeped in this tension where you’re just waiting for someone to snap and start throwing fists. Which feels incredibly awkward and uncomfortable, and makes for some good drama.

      The crux of this tension and this drama lies in the fact that these characters are forced to deal with each other due to being stuck in this boat, but Polanski never allows the setting to limit the dynamism of the film. There are shots that invoke the physical intimacy of the characters, having them in the immediate foreground as characters in the background are directed towards us. Aerial shots where we are looking down at the characters, shots from the water, a lot of stuff that would probably be a hassle to do in the early 60s and which highlight the characters and their isolation from anything and everyone else. Combined with the script it’s a deceptively advanced work for someone’s debut film.

      I also have to give credit to the film’s score, which was done by Krysztof T. Komeda. Musically Knife in the Water sounds like what you imagine all those film noir detective movies would sound like: smooth jazz that seems to slink around the room like a plume of smoke from a beautiful woman’s cigarette. Something which I think compliments the film, as it accentuates this atmosphere of lethargy where the characters ultimately have nothing to do but deal with each other. I think there may be some points where we shift into something a bit more folk-based, but the jazz is what really makes this movie pop in my opinion.

      Of course if you’re not a fan of that era of directors, Bergman, Truffaut, what have you, then I doubt Knife in the Water would change your mind. Although it’s much more straightforward then, say, Godard’s Alphaville, this is still a film of very little action, and where if characters do talk it’s often around the point rather than on it. It’s a very psychologically-centered film, dealing in questions of maturity and the male ego, and there are certainly many people out there that don’t have the patience to sift through that. I did, and even I am struggling to put this review together, if that tells you much.

      Still I think I’ll give Knife in the Water the recommendation. While I think it drags a bit, maybe by design, by the end I think it managed to tell an intriguing story. It’s not a blockbuster or some grand epic by any means, but as a debut film I think it showed a great deal of promise and a knowledge of the craft that would have established Roman Polanski as a director worth keeping track of, an assumption that would eventually be justified in his later films and not the horrible things he would also take part in. It’s definitely not a party movie, but if you’re in a more sullen mood on All Hallow’s Eve then you might throw this on and brood for a while. If you have a boat then even better.

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2020: Ong-Bak: Muay Thai Warrior (2003), directed by Prachya Pinkaew

 

The Trailer

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The Appropriate Tune: "Phua Kao", by Khun Narin

      China has kung fu, Japan has karate and judo, and Thailand has Muay Thai. Also known as Thai boxing, also known as the art of eight limbs, since its entrance onto the global kickboxing stage Muay Thai has become the single biggest thing to come out of that region in recent memory, although I’ve never had Pad Thai so I might be off on that. A large part of that I think is due to its reputation for being dangerous as hell: Aside from the general danger of the style itself, which emphasizes the use of elbows and knees in striking (like being attacked by a sentient table corner), in its native country where things might be played a little more fast and loose Muay Thai matches can be nasty, bloody affairs, more so than any other combat sport in Southeast Asia. At least according to wikipedia.

      Martial arts films as a genre are typically associated with two regions: China, Hong Kong in particular, and Japan. That’s where the big martial arts movies come from, that’s where the big martial arts stars come from. With the increasing recognition of Muay Thai in the world however it was inevitable that at some point we would see a movie centered around Thai boxing just as we had for kung fu and karate. Which we did. This film has been a potential Marathon entry for as long as the Marathon has existed, but I always managed to find something new that grabbed my attention, and the ‘one western & martial arts movie per Marathon’ rule is the oldest tradition of them. This year though we’ve got no distractions, and just as this film is long overdue to be covered, taking a step into Thai and Southeast Asian cinema was a long time coming as well. Which we will, right now.

      Released in 2003 through Baa-ram-ewe and Sahamongkol Film International, Ong-Bak: Muay Thai Warrior (or Ong-Bak: The Thai Warrior in some places) was directed by Prachya Pinkaew and written by Pinkaew, Panna Rittikrai and Suphachai Sittiaumponpan. In the small village of Nong Pradu there is nothing more precious to the villagers than their statue of the Buddha, known to them as Ong-Bak. So much so that when a shady guy named Don steals the head of Ong-Bak, the people are convinced that the village will fall into ruin as a result. Thus the village charges Ting (Tony Jaa) to travel to Bangkok in order to retrieve the head, telling him to seek out former villager Humlae (Mum Jokemok) for help. Trouble is Humlae isn’t a monk-in-training like his parents thought, he’s a sleazy conman constantly in trouble with thugs and gangs for ripping them off, and that the theft of Ong-Bak is only a part of a much larger conspiracy taking place in the dirty underbelly of Bangkok. It’s a good thing that Ting is a living weapon fueled by the art of Muay Thai then.

      Stylistically, Ong-Bak is not that dissimilar from what had been coming out of Hong Kong years before: Kinetic, highly choreographed fight sequences and intense stunt work. Which is not to say that it’s derivative or lesser than it’s neighbor, while the set pieces are not on the scale of a superstar-era Jackie Chan film, the actual stunt work is some of the best I’ve seen in a martial arts film. The acrobatics/parkour stuff is absolutely insane; If that is Tony Jaa doing his own stunts there then I don’t understand how he didn’t become the world’s biggest action star, because he’s the closest thing I’ve seen to a comic book superhero come to life. The fight scenes start off looking good and just get crazier as the film goes on, and while there are multiple cuts throughout there are also scenes of long, intricate sequences as well. Also a huge amount of credit to the stuntman and stunt coordinators, because I don’t know how they pulled any of this off without serious injuries (if they did). I mean the first scene of the film involves guys getting pushed off a tree and dropping several feet into the ground, and there are several scenes where someone leaps into the air and drives another person into the ground knees first. I watch a lot of professional wrestling, the entire point of which is to give the illusion of fighting and causing their opponent pain, and even I end up feeling sympathy pains for the things that these folk do to themselves over the course of the film. You’ll never be able to go back to Steven Segall films after watching Ong-Bak, that’s for sure.

      Where it stumbles is in its characterization. Ting is no Wong Fei-Hong, he’s a kickboxing mannequin who is placed next to more emotive, more weird and entertaining characters that you kind of wish you got to know more about. Honestly at the time of my writing this review I’m still not sure what the antagonist’s name is or if anyone actually says his name at any point in the film, and you don’t learn his right-hand man’s name until near the end of the film when he becomes Thailand’s version of Bane. Luckily Mum Jokemok comes through on that front with Humlae, who takes care of the character arc and as well as many of the comedic moments of the film, including a solid gag involving knives during one of the film’s chase scenes. I do wish they had done more with Muay though, Humlae’s friend and possibly the only woman with a name in this movie, as she feels almost slapped on at the climax of the film and doesn’t really contribute anything leading up to that scene.

      I’m also not a huge fan of Pinkaew’s overuse of the ‘repeat the shot of the stunt’ gimmick. Yes the stunts are so awesome that you’d want to see them again, but the way it keeps happening comes across as silly. Not quite the Matrix, more like those films that ripped off parts of the Matrix in the years following its release. You could say it’s justified because it’s often used to highlight Ting/Jaa’s skills, which is fair, but I would counter that doing it so often takes the bloom off the rose. One of the main appeals of martial arts film is the spontaneous nature of it, seeing something incredibly complex and/or dangerous done with a speed and competency that exists on the edges of believability, like Jackie Chan’s insane stunts. By constantly calling back to these stunts, Ong-Bak comes close to lessening their impact and adds unnecessary energy to already high-energy scenes. It’s as if the filmmakers are trying desperately to convince the audience that their film is cool, rather than letting the film do that.on its own. Tony Jaa is cool as hell though, so I guess there are worse cases of cinematography in the world.

      Speaking of the Matrix, like that film Ong-Bak is definitely of that late 90s to early period in terms of aesthetics. Nightlife in Bangkok means grimy underground clubs and ratty and mood lightning that only comes in shades of dirty yellow set to high energy hip-hop and electronic music, which contrasts well with the poor yet peaceful life in Nong Pradu. Whether that aesthetic has made the go-round and become popular again I can’t say for sure, but I do enjoy the glimpses of Bangkok and the Thai countryside that we get from Ong-Bak. As I’ll probably never have a chance to visit Thailand myself, it’s nice to catch a glimpse and see how Thai people showcase their home.

      Ong-Bak gets the recommendation like gangsters get an elbow to the skull. An uncomplicated story, simple motivations between the protagonist and antagonist, a chock full of fights and stunts to keep you engaged. I think if you’re a fan of slightly surreal action films like John Wick or The Big Hit, or martial arts films in general, then I think you’ll get a kick out of Ong-Bak. Or a knee, as the case may be. Pull out your own statue of the Buddha this Halloween, punch out a Big Bear, and have yourself a good time.

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2020: Mondo Cane (1962), directed by Gualtiero Jacopetti, Paolo Cavara and Franco Prosperi

 

The Trailer

and

The Appropriate Tune: "Il Cielo In Una Stanza", by Mike Patton & The Metropole Orchestra

      We’ve reached the summit folks. Every year for quite a few years now I’ve dedicated the month of October to something I call The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul. 31 days, 31 films, 31 reviews. At a time in my life that could be loosely described as ‘rock bottom’, at a time when the world seems to be doing the same, this shitty little collection of text and jpegs that no one reads has been one of the few bits of metaphorical solid ground I’ve been able to touch down on. A chance to flex my creative muscles, a place to work through my various episodes, all within the context of me complaining about somebody else’s work. Even when this blog has been all but dead, the Marathon has still persisted, beyond all sense of reason or the confines of Halloween. Maybe I can’t muster the will to let it go, or maybe deep down this is what I like to do, the source of my passion. Either way I guess I’ll keep going as long as I can.

      As has been more recent tradition, the last ten days of the month are reserved for foreign films, specifically those outside the U.S.A/U.K./Canada area. Today I thought I’d take a visit to Italy, a region which has been a consistent source of genre films for the Marathon over the years. For a while I was considering covering something by Lina Wertmüller, but given some other revisions we’ll be seeing in the future I decided to change things up. For the sake of variety and, as always, because I felt like it at the time.

      Released in 1962 through Cineriz, Mondo Cane was directed jointly by Gualtiero Jacopeti (who also produced the film and wrote the narration heard throughout the film), Paolo Cavara and Franco Prosperi. A documentary, Mondo Cane’s intent is to show off various aspects of human life from around the globe, in particular the enticing, the morbid, and the bizarre. Visit a village in Italy where the Good Friday celebration involves the priest leading a procession through the streets beating his legs with shards of glass. Take a trip to a restaurant in Taipei where dogs make up the menu. Try not to blink when passing by a village in Malaysia who’s main source of income is fishing for sharks, and they’ve got the bodies to prove it. It’s a wild, terrifying world we live in, says the minds behind Mondo Cane, and they’re giving you a front row seat to the show.

      The colloquial term for films like Mondo Cane would be ‘shockumentaries’; Films which deal in intense subjects, sex, violence, substance abuse, what have you, in order to draw the audience in. In the Italy of 1962 some naked breasts and an ass or two is as far as you get when it comes to sex, barely a step above cheescake Barbarella stuff, but they make up for it with plenty of violence and death. When they show a ceremony in Papua New Guinea involving a slaughtering and roasting of pigs, Mondo Cane leaves nothing to the imagination; You get to watch as tribesmen, armed with heavy wooden clubs, gather in circles and beat the brains out of the pigs before tossing their corpses on the fire. When we visit a shop in Malaysia that sells snake meat, we don’t cut to people enjoying a little snake curry, we get to see the butcher stretch that serpent out and slice it up the middle like a bit of shoe leather. Those out there with strong stomachs will be able to handle the more morose elements of the film, but if you’re the kind of person who doesn’t want to know how the sausage is made (quite literally in the case of the force feeding geese scene) or generally doesn’t like to see animals suffering then this is definitely not the film for you. Even as someone who has watched dozens of horror films over the years, I found some of the stuff in Mondo Cane rather gruesome.

      Of course there’s also the question of who Mondo Cane is geared towards. While it is true that this film is international, when it comes time to highlight the ‘weirdness’ of the world there is a definite focus on certain regions like Malaysia and Papua New Guinea, aside from its native Italy. The main thrust of Mondo Cane is in social commentary; at pointing out the quirks and idiosyncrasies of the world with an aloof, detached air, yet will quite often descend into chauvinism. Mondo Cane is quick to disparage and mock in a scene where American tourists visit Hawaii and take in hula lessons, making points that are quite poignant even today, and yet it takes a 180 in a later scene where a Papua New Guinean tribe is taking communion at a Catholic mission, describing it in sentimental tones as the ‘last bastion of civilization’ in that area. Not to mention several comments directed towards New Guineans, Chinese and other such peoples that could be taken as patronizing at best. Is it racist on the level of Birth of a Nation? No, but if my skin was the same shade as those being gawked at on screen I’d probably find it uncomfortable, and so it might be for others.

      If there’s one thing I’ll praise about this movie though is this music. It’s constantly switching up throughout the movie, from orchestral stuff to big band swing, to lounge jazz and even though the transitions weren’t always smooth I still found it enjoyable. The music was done by Nino Oliviero and Riz Ortolani, the latter of whom was a composer for over two hundred films in his career, particularly genre films, so chances are that we’ll be seeing him again in the future.

      Ultimately though, I don’t think I can recommend Mondo Cane. Putting the casual racism aside, I don’t think there’s that much, really, to drive a viewer’s interest these days. While there is this sort of Addams Family-style cheerfully macabre atmosphere that’s a tad infectious, the shock and awe tactics that worked so well back in the 60s have lost most of their luster in these modern times. There are hundreds of videos on youtube with people eating weird stuff for example, so half of this movie has become superfluous. It was popular enough to get a sequel a couple years later though, so maybe that film would be a more palatable Halloween treat than this one.

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2020: Groundhog Day (1993), directed by Harold Ramis

 

The Trailer

and

The Appropriate Tune: "Every Day Is A Holiday", by DOPE LEMON (feat. Winston Surfshirt)

      There are a myriad of Christmas movies. There are movies about Halloween, Thanksgiving, the Fourth of July and St. Patrick’s Day, and there’s probably a movie or two involving Hanukkah somewhere in the vast depths of the cinematic trenches, besides that one Rugrats TV special. As far as I know though there is only one movie about that most sacred of holidays, the day that everyone waits for with bated breath and girded loins: Groundhog Day. Maybe it’s because I saw a video on youtube showing off Groundhog Day 2, the official sequel in VR game form, but suddenly I felt an urge to return to this movie that I believe I watched over a decade ago. Unfortunately this meant that the film that originally occupied this space had to go, a little something by the Coen Bros. if you’re curious, but this blog being what it is there’s no doubt we’ll be seeing them again sometime in the future. Unless we get stuck in a time loop, I guess.

      Released in 1993 through Columbia Pictures, Groundhog Day was directed and co-written by Harold Ramis (who you might know from Animal House, Meatballs, Caddyshack, Ghostbusters and about a dozen other things) and Danny Rubin (who you might know from...well, pretty much just Groundhog Day). Bill Murray stars as Phil Connors, a narcissistic and mordant weatherman for a Pittsburgh news station who along with his producer Rita (Andie MacDowell) and cameraman Larry (Chris Elliott) who travel to the town of Punxsutawney to cover the Groundhog Day festival and to see whether Punxsutawney Phil, the titular hog, will see his shadow and thus damn the world to six more weeks of winter. The day doesn’t go well; Phil hates Punxsutawney, hates the people, hates the festival and that damn hog and he’s not exactly subtle about it, much to Rita’s chagrin. Were it not for a surprise blizzard shutting down roads and phone lines he would be out of there like that (insert finger snapping here), and when he goes to bed that night he swears that tomorrow will be the last day he ever sets eyes on Punxsutawney again.

      Only tomorrow never comes. When the clock hits six Phil Connors awakes to find that is once again Groundhog Day; The same song on the radio, the same people at the same places, and when he goes to bed the clock strikes six and it all happens again. At first Phil is rather pleased, reveling in his newfound freedom from consequences to indulge in all manner of vices, as well as try to get inside the pants of Rita. That sense of satisfaction quickly turns sour however, and not just because Rita rejects him at every turn. When you know that anything and everything you do will be wiped away by the next day, when you know everything that will happen because you’ve seen it happen again and again and again. How does a man cope with eternity? If he crumbles, can he put himself back together again? Better figure it out soon, it’s Groundhog Day tomorrow.

      Harold Ramis had primarily been a writer at this point in his film career, as I mentioned earlier, and we know what he liked to do as writer: Dry wit, screwball comedy, characters that are smarter than anyone else in the room. All or which is still present, but this collaboration with Danny Rubin has introduced an emotional core that had heretofore never really been present in a Ramis film. Groundhog Day is funny, sure, goofy even at times, but there also times when it’s not funny at all. When it is fact serious, either in a positive way (Phil’s budding relationship with Rita) or negative (Phil’s spiral into rock bottom), and indeed in its overarching existential theme of finding meaning in one’s life and in our relationship with other people. Had things tipped more towards Animal House it wouldn’t have worked, it’s the humanistic element that makes it.

      Who better to exemplify that balance than Bill Murray? Seriously, I can’t think of many comic actors that go from detestable to lovable in as few steps as Murray. He takes a quarter step back and he immediately goes from a guy you wouldn’t piss on if he were on fire to a guy you’d want giving the toast at your wedding. I’d even go as far as suggest that it was this film, rather than The Razor’s Edge almost a decade earlier that really redefined Bill Murray as an actor. He went in the Bill Murray of Saturday Night Live and Ghostbusters and out came Bill Murray of Lost in Translation and Rushmore.

      He is supported by a great cast. No big names, but they’re unique and, like Phil, seeing them over and over again really inures you to them. I could see the argument that Rita doesn’t stand out enough as a character to be the female lead in a romance story, and you could probably debate the logic of a woman falling heads over heels for a guy that she previously thought was a chode in less than 24 hours, but she certainly looks the kind of woman you’d spend an infinite amount of the exact same day trying to get close to her. It’s a bit strange seeing Chris Elliott playing a character so down-to-earth as well, but I honestly forgot he was in this movie from the last time I watched it so it was a nice surprise.

      Groundhog Day is one of those movies that is so ubiquitous at this point that recommending it is probably unneeded, so I’m going to recommend it anyway. It’s an interesting premise that is properly explored and pushes a worthwhile message, seasoned with gallows humor, and served with a romcom. A ‘feelgood’ movie if ever there was one. If you’re interested digging into that Second City/SNL oeuvre this probably wouldn’t be the movie I’d lead with, but it would definitely fit into the must-see category. Doesn’t even have to be on Halloween, just make a holiday of it some day. Unless we get stuck in a time loop, I guess.